


i don't see the harm, so are you game?

by hesperides



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sakuma Rei's little brother complex, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires, mentions of other pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperides/pseuds/hesperides
Summary: “Do you see? You’ll have to subdue your killing intent, if you don’t want to frighten your prey away,” Natsume can feel the soft rumble of Wataru’s voice as he tries to blink away the stinging sensation in his eyes. “It’s Natsume-kun’s first time. You’ll need a gentler touch if you want to coax him out to be devoured, Rei.”





	i don't see the harm, so are you game?

The teacher gives Natsume a tired glare when he asks to be excused to use the restroom, the look in his eyes clearly asking him why he even bothers at this point when the chances of him actually returning to class are next to none. Natsume only replies with the phoniest smile he can manage, keeping his head up and gaze trained ahead of him as he rises from his chair and exits the classroom a little too quickly to be entirely normal. He does his best to ignore the feeling that every other boy in the room is watching him leave, which is easier than it sounds, considering he’s caught at least three different people staring at him within the last half hour. He must really look as bad as he feels, if he’s garnering that much attention. All he wants to do now his get somewhere quiet and secluded and maybe nap through the rest of his classes. It would hardly be the first time.

Exiting to the hallway clears his head almost immediately. He still feels hot, sweat prickling along the back of his neck under his hairline, his skin itching anywhere it comes in contact with his clothing, but the lack of other people around him makes it easier to collect his thoughts. It might be good to go outside and get some air, maybe on the roof or in the garden, but another part of him rejects that vehemently. His feet start moving before he fully registers it, taking him to an unused janitorial closet containing a back wall that gives way when pressed in just the right place. Natsume slips into the dark passageway and feels instantly calmed, like the lack of light alone might cool down his overheated body.

While he fully intends to go to his secret room beneath the library, has walked the path enough times to know the way by heart, he gets turned around somewhere between the third right and second left that he needs to take. The hidden door he reaches opens not to his familiar lair, but someone else’s— the theater club room.

Wataru must be attending class, or more likely playing hooky somewhere else, as room appears empty, lights dimmed even more than usual. Natsume knows he should slip back into the wall and head to his actual destination, but his body feels so strangely heavy, and the couch is looking more enticing by the second. His master will inevitably tease him when he catches him sleeping there, but Natsume can’t bring himself to care, even if the room feels warmer and more stifling than the one he was just in. The heat weighs down on him, a cape of lead that makes the very idea of having to navigate through the passageway again seem like an insurmountable task. His feet are already plodding quietly into the room before he has a chance to reconsider, awkwardly fumbling out of his school jacket and tossing it to the floor before falling into the couch, pressing his face into the cushions and breathing in deeply before his whole world goes black.

It’s hard to tell how long he sleeps for. Whether it’s for a few minutes or a few hours, when he wakes up to a soft voice calling his name, he’s stricken with a momentary certainty that someone’s doused him with water. His undershirt is completely soaked through, leaving huge damp spots on the front and back of his crisp white button down. More alarming than that, he entire body feels like its on fire, a kind of muscle cramp that goes from neck down to his knees and makes squirm like maybe if he rubs his skin off against the couch, that might make him feel just a little less like he’s losing his mind.  


“Sakasaki,” the voice calls out again, and when Natsume turns his head he’s greeted with the unwelcome sight of Hidaka Hokuto staring down with him an expression of concern mixed with something else. He smells nice enough, and Natsume doesn’t have time to wonder why that’s the first thought that comes into his head.

“Go away, Hokkee-kun,” he’s aware he sounds ragged, like he just ran a mile, and it takes his mind a moment to recognize the words as his own. “I’m not in the mood to play today.”

“You’re in a club room, and it’s time for the club to meet,” Hokuto’s still looking at him like there’s something unpleasant on his face, and Natsume’s instantly aggravated by it. “Furthermore, you shouldn’t even be at school. You’re obviously not feeling well, and,”

“And I’ll make sure you catch it too if you keep bothering me,” it takes some effort to twist his body to face Hokuto, and is surprised to see the other boy take a sudden step back when he does. Does he truly look that terrifying with the flu, or whatever bug he’s caught? “What’s the matter, Hokkee-kun? Are you afraid I’ll sink my teeth into you, like some wild animal? Why don’t you come closer, I promise I won’t I won’t bite you _too_ hard.”

Hokuto replies to him with something strained and scolding, but Natsume doesn’t hear it. His whole stomach lurches as a scent unlike anything he’s experienced before seems to roll over his body, a warm musk that’s deep and bright at the same time and makes the embers burning along his nerves temporarily dim to something bearable.

Wataru appears with surprisingly little fanfare, seeming to melt out of the shadows and silently position himself behind Hokuto before hovering a hand over his shoulder, making his underclassman nearly jump when he drops it down.

“Hokuto-kun! What a surprise to see you here,” Wataru’s smile is colder than Natsume usually sees it, even when dealing with someone he knows the other finds particularly boring. “What a diligent club member you’ve turned out to be.”

Hokuto’s eyes dart between Wataru and Natsume rapidly, and Natsume is sure he can smell the anxiety rolling off his classmate. “I told you I was serious about learning from you. My resolve hasn’t wavered.” 

“Of course! What a vital fact for me to forget, when all of your heartfelt attempts have fallen so short of any professional’s standards,” Natsume can see the way Wataru’s hand curls when he means to lift his arm and conjure a rain of rose petals, maybe throw out a dove directly into Hokuto’s face just to see how he reacts, but Natsume doesn’t let him. He’s not sure if it’s his master’s heartbeat or his own that’s been pounding in his ears, drowning out the conversation and making sound like it’s taking place across the room rather than right in front of him, it’s hard to tell with the constant drumming in his ears muddling his thoughts. He doesn’t even realize his own hand has moved until he feels the neatly ironed fabric of Wataru’s school shirt under his fingers, where he’s clutched it by his wrist.

Wataru’s eyes narrow for a moment so brief Natsume thinks he it might be his imagination, something in his master’s gaze turning sharp and unfamiliar, even as his attention is still entirely trained on Hokuto— who he thinks must notice it too, with the way his concerned frown deepens into something more uneasy. Wataru either doesn’t recognize or doesn’t care about the reaction, continuing on as if he never paused unexpectedly in the first place.

“Such dedication deserves a reward, does it not? I’ve come up with the perfect way to show my utmost appreciation for your constant effort and often ill placed trust!”

“Is it another special assignment?”

“It is!” Wataru’s voice retains its usual timbre, even as Natsume finds himself slowly but firmly pulling on his sleeve, dragging his upperclassman incrementally closer. “I’m entrusting you with the task of retrieving my newest script from an up and coming playwright. I’ve left the instructions to her studio with Laurence, you _do_ remember Laurence, of course?”

Hokuto looks like he’s desperately trying to hide a mixture of negative emotions and failing spectacularly, not that Natsume cares, because Wataru’s hand is right next to his face now, and he’s much more occupied thinking about why he has the sudden urge to start licking his fingers.

“The dove?”

“Yes! The dove, the one I had you keep in your shirt during your classes. I’m glad you remember him! He’s up on the roof with Jeanne and Arthur, so you’ll have to be sure to speak to the right one, or they’ll all become _very_ offended.”

The door back out to the auditorium opens on its own, as if on cue, before Wataru continues.

“I need that script as soon as possible, Hokuto-kun, time is of the essence. Your road to victory may be fraught with challenges, but the hardships you endure will only add to your experiences, planting the seeds of human struggle in your fertile young soil and growing into something beautiful once you triumph!” there’s a pause, for drama, before he adds; “And don’t forget to close the door behind you.”

Natsume isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Hokuto move that fast, but he’s beyond noticing anything that isn’t directly in front of him. The second the door closes, Wataru is blessedly the only thing his senses can register when he turns to face him, dropping down to his knees with characteristic grace in front of the couch and not even flinching as Natsume throws himself at him. He wraps his arms around Wataru’s neck and presses his nose against the side of his face and breathes _in_ , because Wataru smells right, Wataru smells safe and warm and like the only thing in the world he wants right now.

“Natsume-kun,” there’s a softness in his voice that his student rarely hears, along with something else Natsume doesn’t recognize, the barest whisper of strain that seems to fit Wataru poorly. “How did this happen? When did it start?”

He doesn’t answer, or tries not to, until Wataru reaches up to brush his long piece of hair behind his ear, the brief contact a pleasant shock beneath his skin.

“After lunch … Maybe it was something I ate? I didn’t have time to pack anything this morning …” he murmurs against Wataru’s cheek, briefly wondering if it’s too weird to lick him right now, because a large part of his brain is telling him that’s a great idea.

“Ahhh, have you been putting strange things in your mouth? It would have to be something strange to cause this,” Wataru hums softly in reply, slightly teasing. Natsume can’t see his face in this position, but he can feel it when Wataru moves to put an arm around his waist, rising from the floor to slide onto the sofa next to him. Natsume crawls into his lap without even a token hesitation once he’s settled, all of his regular inhibitions seeming significantly farther away and less important than Wataru’s warmth, smell, and the feeling of his hands pulling Natsume closer.

“I made someone from my class go buy it for me, I caught him cheating on a test the other day,” Natsume speaks slowly, mouth pulled down into a light frown. His thoughts are sharper than they were before, but still muddled. Everything outside the here and now and what isn’t directly within his reach is difficult to hold on to, shying away from his touch when he tries to grab hold of any single thought buzzing around in his head. He feels _wrong_ , yet at the same time, feels like he knows exactly what he needs to do to make himself better.

“Shishou, I’m ill. Can I kiss you?”

Wataru’s lips quirk up into a broader smile, fondly amused in a way that makes Natsume shiver and try to wiggle forward on his thighs.

“You aren’t ill, Natsume-kun, though you’ve managed to put yourself in a state that shouldn’t be possible. This school is certainly full of unfathomable mysteries, is it not?” he places a hand flat on Natsume’s chest, stopping him from going too far. “Perhaps you should take this off first, don’t you think? It’s not good to wear wet clothing for too long.”

Natsume hasn’t forgotten about his soaked through shirts— they’re still damp and uncomfortable against his skin, a sensation he hardly relishes, but had tolerated once his attention was drawn elsewhere. As soon as Wataru mentions it again, Natsume’s hands move too quickly too be well coordinated as he fumbles with the buttons on his outer layer. He can tell that it’s not one of his normal thoughts, to want to strip so badly in front of another person, but he’s so warm, and room feels so warm, and he thinks he’ll _definitely_ feel better if he can get as naked as possible as soon as humanly possible.

Wataru must be feeling generous today, only letting Natsume struggle on his own for as long as it takes him to get the first button undone. His master’s long, deft fingers make quick work getting his uniform shirt open and off, and Natsume isn’t quite sure if pulls his turtleneck off himself or if Wataru just makes it disappear with some especially miraculous sleight of hand. The air still feels too muggy and stifling against his bare skin, the uncomfortable warmth that’s been hanging onto him all afternoon, weighing heavy on every bone and muscle in his body.

“That didn’t help at all,” Natsume grouses, leaning forward so he’s pressed chest to chest with Wataru, eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You still haven’t answered my question, Shishou.”

“It’s a scandalous proposition, Natsume-kun! Can’t you give my delicate maiden’s heart a moment to recover from the shock?” Wataru’s faux-scandalized tone only acts to contrast the way he lowers his head to move further into Natsume’s space, silken strands of hair from his ponytail falling over his shoulder when he gently bumps their noses together. “Is this something my darling student has considered before? Wait, don’t answer that— I can’t have the image of my sweet child tainted any more in one afternoon!”

“Shishou,” his voice is little more than a whine when he answers, so strained and desperate that it still sounds foreign to Natsume. “Most of the school would do more than that if you asked, and the ones who wouldn’t don’t have any taste.”

“And Natsume-kun counts himself in with the former?” Wataru slides a hand up Natsume’s neck, long fingers brushing just under his chin, and it takes a moment for his short-circuiting brain to remind him that he was just asked a question.

“Yes—” is what he means to say, but the word is lost in noise he makes when Wataru closes the distance between them, whatever shambling sense of logical thought he has left going with it. Wataru’s mouth is warm and his scent is all around Natsume now, blocking everything else out, his entire being focusing down to the feeling of Wataru’s lips, Wataru’s vest pressing against his bare skin, Wataru’s hand on his jaw.

When Wataru draws back, Natsume has no idea how much time has passed. It can’t have been more than a few seconds, but his breath is coming out in harsh pants, lungs burning with exertion as if he’s just a run a mile (Natsume cannot run a mile and has skipped every PE class he’s had in the last two months, but the analogy still applies). Any clarity he might’ve had remaining feels undone completely, his mind overridden by the strange scent that Wataru gives off like it’s apart of him, and maybe it is— the tiny part of Natsume’s brain that’s still functioning whispers that he’s missing something _extremely_ obvious here.

“It looks like we’ve found another subject you need tutoring in, Natsume-kun,” Wataru teases, pressing a finger to Natsume’s lips. “Of course, if you’re so inexperienced, we would have to return to the basics before attempting anything so advanced again.”

Natsume knows he’s doing it to get a rise out of him, to make him pout and snap back like a child, and it nearly works. He’s sure that’s what his master is expecting, when Natsume opens his mouth, but he stays silent as he tilts his head down just so, lips closing over the finger Wataru had against them, taking it in to the warmth of his mouth. He can hardly explain why he does it, but look of not-quite-surprise Wataru smothers under his impermeable poker face tells him it’s worked.

He can only be disappointed when Wataru doesn’t immediately kiss him again. His indignation only intensifies when he feels Wataru suddenly shift all of his weight to one side of his lap, boxing him in against the back of the sofa and throwing his other arm over Natsume’s head to block his view of _something_.

The sound of the door opening hadn’t reached Natsume, for any number of reasons that he can likely guess, and it isn’t until Wataru lifts his leg up in an elegant sweep to plant the heel of his foot squarely between the eyes of their very sudden interloper that Natsume even realizes that someone else has come into the room.

“Wataru, what the fuck,” Rei Sakuma, student council president and probable prince of darkness, sounds appropriately upset about being kicked in the face by an underclassman. Natsume wiggles furtively around Wataru’s arm, releasing the finger in his mouth to try and peek out from behind the curtain of his master’s ponytail and see what kind of expression the other Oddball has.

“Rei, there you are! I thought perhaps you’d forgotten to come, or been waylaid by one of your energetic admirers on your journey here,” Wataru replies airily, his freed hand reaching back to pull more hair over his shoulder, letting it fall directly in front of Natsume’s face to further obscure him. “Or, could it be you’re purposefully playing hard to get? That would be enough to get any boy’s heart fluttering, if they weren’t already immune to your charms, and you weren’t horribly unsuited to attempting anything so cute.” 

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Natsume still can’t see all of what’s going on through the barrier of Wataru’s hair, and can’t help but feel a sense of mounting frustration with the way he keeps getting elegantly wrestled into the couch cushions when he attempts to get a look at Rei. Or, he _would_ be feeling frustration, if this didn’t mean that Wataru had to keep constantly touching him, which is enough to keep him placated for the moment. “I can smell him, Wataru. What the hell did you do?”

“Rei-niisan,” all of that physical interference that still doesn’t stop Natsume from talking, even if it’s slightly muffled behind a firm barrier of Wataru and Wataru’s hair. 

“Natsume-kun, hush, I’m trying to keep the strange man from eating you,” Wataru’s stage whisper is just that, and Natsume can hear Rei clicking his tongue in response.

“Look at who’s talking. Can you get your foot off my face? You’re leaving tread marks.”

A heavy sigh that falls from Wataru’s lips like an anchor being dropped is the only warning Natsume gets before he’s promptly rolled over with a fluid shift of his master’s hips, leaving his bare back exposed to the open air, still facing Wataru’s chest but free to turn his head and look elsewhere. It makes him realize, a little too late, what Wataru was trying to do— without the physical wall of another person between them, Natsume’s completely exposed to an overpowering smell, one that he somehow immediately recognizes as coming from Rei.

Because this is different from the scent he now knows must be from Wataru. His nose feels like it’s burning, every breath he takes in lighting his senses and nerves on fire, not so much focusing his thoughts on one thing as it completely blasts them into nothingness, an engulfing and intoxicating void that both excites and terrifies him. He doesn’t remember making a sound like a squeak, or pressing his face into pressed collar of Wataru’s shirt, but he can feel the starched cotton against his cheek, and knows the voice to be his own.

“Do you see? You’ll have to subdue your killing intent, if you don’t want to frighten your prey away,” Natsume can feel the soft rumble of Wataru’s voice as he tries to blink away the stinging sensation in his eyes. “It’s Natsume-kun’s first time. You’ll need a gentler touch if you want to coax him out to be devoured, Rei.” 

Natsume can’t think anymore. There are things that Wataru’s saying that he should be analyzing, carefully deconstructing to figure out what exactly is going on in this situation that neither of his upperclassmen are saying explicitly. He tries to breathe in, to reach inside of himself for some kind of inner calm, but each inhale of air he takes is laced with something maddening, only making his body hotter and his mind duller. He doesn’t care about trying to unravel the mystery of what’s happening to his body anymore. Chasing that line of thought, any line of thought, is too much effort. All he wants to do is lie there and breathe in Wataru’s scent of crisp ozone and old playbills and something else, whatever else, it doesn’t matter, as long as he can find relief from the stifling heat.

So when a pale hand reaches out to trace along the line of his jaw, coaxing him to turn his head to the side, he doesn’t resist. Even if Rei’s scent (and he’s sure it’s his, somehow, can’t imagine who else could ever come close to it) makes his senses burn like he’s tasting smoke, it’s not so bad, now that he’s had time to adjust. Rei’s mouth is warm when he leans in to press their lips together, but it’s different from the feeling racing through Natsume’s veins— it’s comfortable, inviting, and Natsume has no qualms with letting Rei’s tongue dart out to tease his mouth open. The hand under his chin trails to the back of Natsume’s head, cradling it when Rei sucks on Natsume’s tongue, making him gasp and squirm against Wataru. He feels the sharp edge of a fang drag against his bottom lip, making a paper-thin cut, before Rei’s head is yanked back with no further warning, Natsume only realizing what’s happened when he opens his eyes again to see Wataru’s hand tangled in dark hair, restraining the other.

“ _Careful_ , now,” Wataru’s voice purrs just above Natsume’s ear, sending an involuntary shiver racing down his spine. He hasn’t been able to get a good look at Rei since he came in, not really, and now that his face is so close Natsume swears he can see his eyes glowing in the low light, blood red and fixed onto him with a predatory gaze. It makes it impossible for Natsume to look away, utterly entranced, and he quietly wonders if this is a vampire thing, or maybe just a Sakuma Rei thing.

“Natsume-kun,” Wataru continues, pushing Rei away with a surprisingly forceful pull of his arm, using the other to turn Natsume around in his lap as he sits them both up, his own back to the couch and Natsume’s back to his chest. “Rei had requested my assistance with the unfortunate side-effects of his hormonal cycle. He becomes such a slave to his biological urges when he gets like this, as you can see— you’d think our venerable student council president would be a little more responsible with his health, but alas,”

“Wataru—”

“Rei! Your crude growling is only proving my point!”

Natsume is barely following along with the conversation, more annoyed than anything that Wataru interrupted Rei kissing him to go on about something that is not leading to more kissing, at least in a timely enough manner for Natsume’s taste. He reaches a hand up, groping blindly around Wataru’s shoulder until he finds that braid in his ponytail and wraps it around his hand, tugging down on it with enough force to make Wataru’s head tilt to that side.

“Shishou, I don’t care,” and while normally Natsume _would_ care about sounding like too much of a petulant brat in front of his master, his current impatience overrides all of that. He’s almost sure that’s what makes Rei laugh, as he always seems to become a little more overbearing when Natsume acts ‘cute’. There’s something in the dark tone of his voice that makes Natsume’s hair stands on end, the same kind of feeling he gets when Wataru wraps both arms around his waist to pull him tighter against his chest. It’s when he feels Wataru’s erection pressing against him that something in his mind clicks into place, prompting his next words to spill out without a moment of hesitation. 

“I feel wrong. We should have sex.”

Wataru hums, soft and thoughtful, contrasting with the way his eyes narrow sharply. 

“Well, you heard him, Rei. It seems as though you’ll be forced to go hump the leg of some other poor soul, as our demanding child has no use for you,” Wataru’s smile has too much tooth to match the cheerful tone of his voice, the way he drags his palm up Natsume’s bare stomach only punctuating it. Natsume’s too flustered for a moment to interrupt, because that’s not what he said at all, and the thumb he feels gently brushing over his nipple at the same time elongates that moment long enough for Wataru to continue. “You could, of course, try to entreat Natsume-kun to change his mind. I’m sure if you plead your case, he might find it in his heart to relent!”

Rei’s still kneeling on the floor, where Wataru had pushed him, sweat staining the collar of his dress shirt and eyes redder than Natsume can ever remember them being before. His gaze is focused beyond Natsume’s, probably locked with Wataru’s, his lip curling up in a gesture that’s more animal than human. Natsume could swear he sees the heat rising off of him, and his scrambled thoughts helpfully (but extremely belatedly) remind him that Rei-niisan is an alpha, and more importantly, one that refuses to take hormone balancers. 

“Shishou, if Rei-niisan’s in rut—” This time Natsume can’t fully suppress the squeak he makes when Wataru pinches the soft flesh of his nipple between his fingers, effectively cutting him off and making the flush on his face deepen by at least two shades.

“Natsume-kun, you can’t just allow an alpha to run rampant over you for whatever excuse they can conjure up at the time,” Wataru’s breath is warm against Natsume’s ear as he lets his other hand drop down, running it gently over the front of his pants, eliciting a soft whine from Natsume’s lips. “Especially when you’re like this.”

‘Like what?’ Natsume naturally wants to muse, but with Wataru’s hand rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his pants, all he can really do is squirm and try to lift his hips up, seeking more contact. Wataru moves his hand away before he can get any real relief, and Natsume isn’t exactly proud of the frustrated tears he can feel forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Come _on_ Wataru, I ain’t the one being a complete sadist here,” Rei hasn’t moved from his spot, crouched on the floor, and while his voice resembles the usual calm that Natsume recognizes from him, the tension curling along every powerful line of his body tells a different story. “You don’t have to hold somebody else hostage to get me to beg for you.” 

“I’m doing no such thing! And if I was, could you really blame me? It’s such a striking look for you, Rei, and one so few people ever get to see,” Wataru’s replies serenely, rubbing the heel of his hand just inside Natsume’s inner thigh, and can only laugh when Natsume grabs onto his arm to try and force his touch _just_ a bit further north. “How many people do you think have ever been able to see our Natsume-kun like this? We might even be the first— don’t you think a little begging is warranted, when I’ve delivered such an adorable little present right into your lap?”

“Sounds like it’s more for your benefit than Natsume-kun’s,” Rei’s eyes are fixed above Natsume’s head, staring intently at Wataru. He doesn’t drop his gaze even as he leans forward, slow and deliberate, giving Wataru more than enough time to intercept him again if he so desired. Wataru doesn’t, so Rei lifts his hands, setting them on Natsume’s knees and sliding them up, palms burning, to settle on his hips.

When he finally lowers his eyes to meet Natsume’s, there’s a familiar smile on his lips, one Natsume’s seen him use countless times when luring some unsuspecting admirer into the inescapable pull of his gravity. Natsume’s first instinct is to look away, and he manages it for all of two seconds before he feels the insistent swipe of Rei’s thumb rolling over the exposed curve of his hip, drawing his attention back before he has any time to try and place it elsewhere. 

“Hey, _little kitten_ ,” Rei’s voice is a velvet rumble, the one he uses on stage to enthrall crowds and drive fans into intoxicated fervor, turned with exacting precision onto a single target. “Your Nii-san’s in a bad way right now. But you are too, aren’t ya? So we’re gonna take care of you first, ‘kay?”

There’s a question hidden in there, an out for Natsume to take, but really, he’s sure Rei already knows it isn’t necessary. Wataru might be his master, but that doesn’t mean he trusts the other Oddballs any less. There’s no hesitation in the quick bob of his head, a firm nod that gives Rei all the permission he needs to practically tear the belt from Natsume’s pants.

Wataru lifts his hips for him, so Rei can pull his pants and underwear down all in one go, leaving him completely exposed between the two of them. He’s already embarrassingly hard, just from Wataru’s few teasing touches and the intoxicating smell Nastume can swear he feels spilling over him, making every breath he takes feel like its setting his body aflame, in a way he can’t say he entirely minds.

Rei doesn’t seem to mind either, his eyes dragging over Natsume’s naked body with a downright predatory gleam, and that alone is enough to elicit a full body shiver that travels down the length of Natsume’s spine. That’s all the warning he gets, and his mind can barely register what happens between watching Rei put his hands back on his hips and watching Rei duck his head down to swallow his cock in smooth motion, like it’s nothing.

The noise Natsume makes is utterly mortifying, somewhere between a whine and yelp and he’s trying to have some sense of shame about it, really, but Rei’s mouth is doing an extraordinary job of being distracting. It’s difficult to focus on his own embarrassment when his eyes are drawn naturally to the sight of Rei’s lip stretched around his dick, and Natsume can feel every drag of the flat of his tongue against the length of his cock. It only gets worse when he pushes his head down and hollows his cheeks out and Natsume’s pretty sure he’s going to come in record time.

“Rei-niisan,” he was planning to say something, ask him to slow down, to show him some mercy. That’s clearly not in the cards for today, because all Rei does in response is reach out to hook a hand under Natsume’s knee, to swing his leg over his shoulder so he can take him down even further in his mouth.

“You should move your hips, Natsume-kun,” Wataru’s breath is hot against his ear, his hands running idly along Natsume’s sides, his own hard cock still pressed into the other’s back. “Rei likes that kind of rough treatment, you know? If you fuck his mouth a little, he won’t mind at all.”

Natsume doesn’t get the chance, because between everything— his own inexperience, the warmth that’s been raging throughout his body since he woke up, Wataru’s voice, and the silken heat of Rei’s mouth closing around him without any reprieve— he comes with a hoarse shout, spilling over Rei’s tongue as Wataru’s arms wrap around his middle and hold him back, saving Natsume from tipping over and off Wataru’s lap.

Rei pulls off his cock with a wet sound, swallowing down any remnants of Natsume’s orgasm, and the way his Adam’s apple bobs makes Natsume feel that now familiar heat begin to pool at the base of his spine again already, and really, that’s not fair.

“I heard that, Wataru, don’t go teachin’ our sweet child all your bad habits,” Rei’s smile is easy, even if his lips are red and wetter than they were before, leaving trails of saliva when he presses his mouth against velvet skin of Natsume’s inner thigh.

“Perhaps I’d take the request of our _honorable_ student council president more seriously if he’d get up off his knees,” Wataru hums, idly nuzzling at the back of Natsume’s neck, tickling at the nape with his nose. “Ah, Natsume-kun, you still smell like something I want to eat up. You’ll have to bear with us for just a while longer.”

Natsume’s ears should be burning at that kind of comment coming from his master, but his whole body’s already so flushed, he doubts he can muster any more embarrassed adrenaline without suffering a heart attack.

“Shishou’s the one who smells strangely. Is it a spell? I’m not what use there would be to learning something like this.”

Rei’s eyes flick up, exchanging a look with Wataru that Natsume can’t parse in his current state. He hates it when they do this, acting like he’s a child who won’t catch that they’re trying to communicate over him, and while he might normally suffer it in relative silence, the strangeness of this entire situation that Natsume’s coming to care about less and less emboldens him.

“Rei-niisan, I’m still right here, you know,” it sounds more petulant than he intends, and does a poor job of reaffirming his maturity, but it earns him a crooked smile from Rei that teases the edges of his red eyes, fond and entirely genuine, if still completely lascivious.

“Yeah, you sure are,” Rei answers with a wink, sitting up on his knees and gently guiding Natsume’s leg back off his shoulder. “Wataru, let me hold him for a minute, you’ve had your turn.”

“Not before you pull yourself up from the floor and sit like a civilized creature,” Wataru says, chiding, hesitating only for a few beats before handing Natsume off when Rei pulls himself up and onto the sofa with them.

They’re treating Natsume like a baby again and he hates that, a distant voice at the back his head reminds him, but it’s nothing more than a token protestation at this point. Rei’s arms are strong and solid around him, and when Natsume leans in to press their chests together, allowing Rei’s feverish heat to soak into him, Rei lets his head drop to Natsume’s neck and breathes in deeply, groaning softly like he’s getting off on Natsume’s scent alone.

There’s an easy observation he should be making here, one that would come to him instantly under normal circumstances, about certain telling details of the situation Natsume’s found himself in. He’s not stupid, after all, and coming to an accurate and informed conclusion based on the actions of those around him is something Natsume does better than most. All of this is a weight on his mind, and makes a very compelling argument for reining himself in to fully analyze all the information bombarding his sense, but the feeling of Rei’s teeth dragging against the skin where his neck meets his shoulder happens to be just slightly more compelling,

It’s hard to second guess his choice of action when he feels Wataru settle back down onto the couch behind him— when did he get up? It doesn’t seem to matter that much in comparison to the way Wataru’s fingers trace down his spine, languid and full of intent.

“Natsume-kun, sit up on your knees more, just like that,” Natsume follows Wataru’s instructions unquestioningly, letting Rei reach around to grab the back of his thighs and assist in repositioning him. Wataru’s hand continues to move down, pausing to rest on the curve of Natsume’s hip, and Natsume can only guess what else he’s doing in that lull from the sounds of something plastic being flicked open and Rei’s responding chuckle.

“You’re gonna give me nightmares usin’ your hair like that, Wataru,”

“My apologies, I always forget how easily disturbed Sakuma Rei-chan is! I’ll be sure to blindfold you for this part of my act, in the future.” 

“Shishou—” Natsume turns his head back to see exactly what Wataru’s doing, or at least tries to, before Rei intercepts with a hand on the back of his head pulling him back in for another scorching kiss. Rei’s mouth is a good distraction, hot and wet and absolutely exacting, his tongue and teeth pulling out more helplessly aroused noises from Natsume’s throat. He can’t help but feel clumsy in comparison to the way Rei moves, the relentless slide of his lips clearly a skill he’s perfected by this point, and he can only be grateful that Rei doesn’t comment on the clear difference of experience. From how intent he seems on making sure Natsume barely has time to catch his breath between kisses, he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Wataru’s other hand is slick with something when he puts it back on Natsume’s body, sliding it down the seam of his ass while Rei pulls away, before sealing his mouth just under the line of Natsume’s jaw instead. He’s not entirely sure, but something tells Natsume that it shouldn’t be that easy for Wataru to slip a finger inside of him— his body offers next to no resistance, and the sensation is strange more than painful. The oddness of the feeling only intensifies when Wataru moves it, flexing the digit shallowly, but even that’s enough to draw a curiously aroused noise from Natsume. 

Natsume’s so focused on the strangeness of Wataru pressing further inside of him that he misses the way Rei’s teeth drag against the pale skin of his neck, and it’s the only warning he gets before those razor-sharp fangs are sinking into his flesh, sending a spike of pain racing through Natsume’s nerves before it turns into something very, very different.

He’s never doubted the authenticity of Rei’s vampiric nature, of course, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t wondered about some of the finer details of his condition. Now, as a warmth just as numbing as it is intoxicating blooms throughout his body from the source of the bite, Natsume thinks he knows why all those women in the dated horror movies Wataru likes to watch swoon so immediately during this part.

The noises Rei makes as he sucks the lazily flowing blood from Natsume’s neck aren’t that different from the ones he made when his mouth was on his cock, and a giddy kind of giggle rises up from Natsume’s throat at the realization. It feels good, in another one of those unfamiliar new ways he’s been experiencing throughout this encounter, and it only seems natural to let his body go slack, leaning forward against Rei as all his thoughts slip away, mind going blank.

“Rei,” Wataru’s voice seems distant to him now, even as he’s barely inches away. “Rei, that’s enough.”

Rei doesn’t respond, and Natsume can’t muster any of the alarm he should have about steadily being bled dry. It seems silly to worry about what’s happening when it feels so good, even with the sound of his own heartbeat growing steadily stronger in his ears, drowning all other noise out. He swears he can hear his own blood being teased out, trickling gently from his veins onto Rei’s tongue, even if that shouldn’t be possible. Sakuma Rei shouldn’t be possible, as a general rule, and that’s never stopped him before. 

Natsume’s eyes slipped closed at some point or another, head tilting to the side opposite of the bite to give Rei more room, so he doesn’t actually see what happens. He just feels Wataru’s finger slip out of him the same moment Rei’s fangs release his neck, and the next thing he knows he’s being crushed between the two of them, pressed forward against Rei’s chest with Wataru’s weight pinning him there, heavy and warm, and there’s not much else Natsume can do besides make a soft noise of surprise and breathe in Rei’s intoxicating scent.

“If he passes out after this, I’m going to be very cross with you,” Wataru sounds closer now, as Natsume’s senses all begin to slide back into focus— at least, in a way. With his face shoved unceremoniously against the fabric of Rei’s shirt, crisp white fabric dampened with sweat and reeking of that aroma that makes Natsume want to be devoured whole, that different kind of high quickly takes him over again. 

“Shishou, why did you stop?” Natsume’s complaint is muffled between the bodies of his two upperclassman, nearly lost underneath whatever they happen to be discussing over him in tensely clipped tones. 

“And you have the gall to wonder why Shu won’t invite you over after you ruined his Cavalli bed sheets. You’re an exquisitely ill-behaved nightmare,” Wataru chides as he begins to ease some of his weight off Natsume, just enough to slip a hand in between him and Rei. Natsume’s hopes of maybe getting to have his dick touched again sometime within this century are quickly crushed when he feels Wataru’s deft fingers go to Rei’s waist instead. He’s too slow to look down to see how he does it, but it’s only a second later that Wataru’s pulling Rei’s belt free, the way the leather slides against Natsume’s bare stomach making something inside him somersault in excitement. “Hands behind your back if you would, Rei. I’m not in the mood to ask you twice.”

“You’re that pissed? Fuck, you know nothing gets me hotter than—” Rei isn’t allowed to finish that sentence, and Natsume doesn’t get a chance to look up and see what does it, Wataru leaning forward and trapping him in place again in that same moment. His arms reach around Natsume to do something that makes Rei’s breath quicken with a sharp inhale, motions sharp and too quick for Natsume’s hazy focus to guess at without a proper view. 

He doesn’t have to wait long to have his curiosity sated. Wataru takes Natsume with him when he leans back this time, far enough that Natsume can stretch his legs if he really wants to, nestled comfortably against Wataru’s chest with his arm around Natsume’s waist. It’s gives him a perfectly clear view of Rei, black hair tousled in an inelegant sweep that falls into his eyes, his shoulders straining under the fabric of his shirt where his arms— Natsume can’t see his arms at this angle, when they’re held behind his back like that, as if they’re restrained by something.

“Shishou,” his question turns into soft sigh as he feels Wataru’s hand slip back up the inside of his thigh, fingers slick and slipping back inside of him just as easily as he did the first time, Natsume’s body still offering no complaint toward the intrusion besides a weak twitch of his hips.

“Did you have a question, Natsume-kun?” Wataru says it into his ear without a hint of breathiness, as if they’re back behind the stage at one of his magic shows, all of his effervescent charm drawing Natsume’s attention back to whatever sleight of hand he’s demonstrating for him that night. It’s a commendable effort, but Natsume isn’t fooled. He can feel Wataru’s cock pressing into the small of his back and smell the lust pouring off him. Even if it being able to tell anything about Wataru by smell would seem insane normally, right now it’s instinctive truth Natsume can’t be bothered to deny. His analytic mind has been smashed to pieces by his heat, and that obvious truth he’s been blindly fumbling around hits him at the same moment Wataru tries spreading him open for the first time, a helpless cry ripping from his throat as he rocks his hips down, immediately seeking out _more_.

“So loose, and I’ve barely done a thing … your body knows exactly what you need,” it might be the most ridiculous thing Natsume’s ever heard anyone say in a real interaction, straight out of a very specific subcategory of porn he definitely hasn’t ever looked up online after making sure to lock his cats out of his room, so of course he can only respond with a reedy moan as Wataru fucks his fingers into him shallowly, his legs trembling weakly when he feels Wataru’s curl them just a little. Natsume’s embarrassment pales in comparison to the overwhelming sensation of the heat ramping up across his body, the pulsating waves of fire that had mildly abated after he orgasmed returning in full force, stripping away all of his higher thought processes and leaving only the most basic animal instinct for him to follow.

There’s a growl of Wataru’s name, sounding so close yet incredibly distant at the same time, Natsume’s heartbeat drowning out anything that isn’t as important as the steady rock of Wataru’s fingers in and out of him. 

“Oh, Rei! That’s right, you’re still here, how inconsiderate of me. Are you ready to prostrate yourself at our darling Natsume-kun’s feet and beg for forgiveness? No no, that doesn’t read as contrite at all, Rei, you’re not even trying.”

Natsume doesn’t hear what Rei says, exactly, barely pays attention to what he’s saying until the tone of his voice suddenly drops into a silken purr, a carefully chosen timbre that snaps something inside of Natsume to attention, his eyes blinking open rapidly to stare down at where Rei’s restrained at the other end of the couch. The smile Rei gives him is just short of feral, a lopsided grin that accentuates the blood still on his lips.

“There you are. Come on, kitten, you still need more than that, don’t ya? Fingers aren’t going to fill you up like you need.”

He leans forward, off of Wataru’s chest, straining gently against the arm he has slung across him, holding Natsume in place.

“Shishou, it’s fine, I’m not angry at Rei-niisan, I want to—”

“You want him to fuck you?” the sweet lilt of Wataru’s voice combined with the vulgarity of his statement sends a shiver racing up Natsume’s spine. “Say it. We have to be sure what you want, Natsume-kun, especially when you’re like this.”

The blush on Natsume’s face must match his hair at this point, a whine dying in his throat as Wataru crooks his fingers _just_ right when he tries to open his mouth at first, delivering a shock of pleasure that hits him like a thunderbolt. Rei surges forward, or tries to, Wataru’s leg shooting up to plant the ball of his foot squarely against Rei’s shoulder, holding him in place.

“I want … “ Natsume swallows thickly, desperate to try and force the mortified lump in his throat to go down. “I want Rei-niisan to fuck me, and … Shishou, too.”

He’s sure he imagines it, but he could almost swear he hears Wataru draw in a sharp breath.

“ _Well_ , you heard him,” Rei presses forward again, eyes burning with a fire that threatens to devour Natsume entirely. “Come on Wataru, let me up already, or at least take my dick out if you’re gonna make me stay tied up like this.”

“Ah, there’s an idea,” if Wataru had been affected by Natsume’s words, he doesn’t betray it in his voice when he speaks again. “Yes, it’ll be much easier to keep you from misbehaving if you’re like that, wouldn’t you agree? The Sakuma Rei virgin defiling experience, with training wheels for ensured safety.”

Rei groans, and whether its out of frustration or arousal, Natsume can hardly tell. All he knows is that Wataru removes his foot and Rei shuffles in closer on his knees and almost immediately Natsume feels overwhelmed by his scent again, going stock still like a fawn caught in the headlights of a speeding car. He can’t call up any clinical knowledge he’s read in books or half-listened to in awkward sexual education classes to shake off the feeling he has of just wanting to submit entirely to Rei, allow everything up to and including being eaten alive by him. 

The only thing that breaks him out of his trance is the jarring sensation of Wataru removing his fingers, the sudden feeling of emptiness jolting all his senses back to attention.

“Natsume-kun, be a good boy and turn around now, hm?” Wataru nudges a him gently, his arms circling around his sides to get at the fly of Rei’s pants. Natsume hears the command clearly, yet remains motionless, watching with rapt attention as Wataru frees Rei’s painfully hard cock from the confines of his underwear. It’s not that Natsume’s never seen a knot before— he’s a teenage boy with teenage boy hormones and access to the internet, though he would never admit to looking up half the things he does. When he measures Rei’s cock against his previous references, he can’t help but notice that his length seems a little … disproportionate. Definitely too large to fit inside of him, all three of his remaining rational brain cells observe, and even that’s drowned out immediately by the unflinching desire that pushes him firmly in the other, irrational direction.

He doesn’t really remember when or how he moves, his mind a blur of sensation until he manages to focus again as Wataru coaxes Natsume onto his knees, facing Wataru and still half in his lap. His master must’ve removed his own shirt at some point, because his chest is bare now, and Natsume immediately leans in to press his face to the small patch of skin between shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. Rei and Wataru’s scents are suffocating him, now, their combined force too much for Natsume to do anything like resist, or think, or not make soft, wanton little noises every time Wataru’s hands adjust his stance or he feels the tip of Rei’s cock brush glancingly against his backside.

“Natsume-kun,” Wataru says, almost quiet, singsong in his ear. “Stay just like that, I’ll take care of the rest for you. All you have to do is move when and I say, and then just one more thing …”

Wataru does actually whisper his last instructions, slipping a hand under Natsume’s chin to tilt his head up to lift his gaze, the words registering in Natsume’s head even if he can hardly parse their full implications in his current state.

“You understand? Of course, my precious student is such an adept learner, this should be no trouble for you at all,” Natsume can only nod dumbly in response, breath catching when he feels Wataru slowly begin to ease his hips back with one hand, the other reaching behind him to line up Rei’s cock. “Now let me see your face for this, I don’t want to miss anything.”

The words ring in his ears, echoing heavily as Wataru finally begins to lower him down by his hips, the head of Rei’s cock slipping in between the seam of his ass and pressing against entrance for just a moment, before Rei pushes his hips up and it’s sliding inside of him, as easy as anything.

Natsume makes a noise between squeak and a hiccup as he feels Rei start to fill him up, everything around him suddenly slowing to crawl as his focus is sharpened tenfold. The primal yearning that’s been driving him since he woke, that persistent itch that’s made Natsume ignore all his rational thoughts in favor of a satisfaction he can’t quite put into words, finally quiets, every centimeter that Rei sinks into him giving him more and more of that long sought after relief. Then sensation of being stretched open so much hardly even hurts, an impossibility that doesn’t strike Natsume until his ass is resting on the top of Rei’s thighs and Rei is warm and solid and smelling like impossibly good right at his back. 

His thoughts are on the verge of aligning into something adjacent to normal before Rei grinds up and his body sings with overwhelming pleasure again, the sharp cry he makes swallowed up when Wataru ducks his head down to claim Natsume’s lips again. Their scents converge together around him and Natsume’s vision nearly whites out, pinned effectively in place between the two of them, held down and split open at the same and he swears he can feel himself being spread further open with every breath he takes, every minuscule twitch of his muscles making Rei’s cock feel that much bigger inside of him.

Rei runs his tongue over the pale skin of Natsume’s neck, unable to communicate in any way that isn’t feral growl or rough snap of his hips at this point. Wataru won’t lift him far up enough for Rei to be able to really drive into him, only allowing enough room for short thrusts that make Natsume shift and squirm. It’s torturous, and he tries to tell Wataru as much, but all that comes out when he opens his mouth to speak is a long, trembling whine. 

It can’t be any longer than a few seconds before Wataru relents and eases Natsume forward, giving Rei enough room to really move, even if it feels like a small eternity. He’s given no warning when Rei starts to really thrust his hips up the first time, too hard and too fast _not_ to be painful under any normal circumstances, a sharp snap that drives all the air out of Natsume’s lungs. He reaches out for Wataru blindly, one hand tangling in his hair while the other is caught and entwined with Wataru’s own. His master smiles blissfully down at him, violet eyes dark with arousal and amusement, holding Natsume’s gaze with an intensity that bars him from looking anywhere, an absolute authority that he’s powerless to resist. 

There’s no rhythm or finesse to Rei’s movements, a desperate bucking that’s hindered by both his restrained arms and Wataru’s careful adjustments to Natsume’s position, denying him the full range of movement that he clearly desires. He’s practically grinding into him like this, and Natsume can’t say it isn’t good, his body so ravenous that anything Rei’s cock could do to him right now would feel good, but it isn’t enough. 

His head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering as wave after wave of pleasure piles up within him, building to a crescendo that falls just short of completion. When he opens his mouth to ask for more, the words won’t form, and he’s left with Wataru’s expectant stare, an unspoken order that reminds Natsume of his last instruction.

“Rei-niisan,” his voice is dry, ready to become kindling. “Onii-chan.”

Natsume doesn’t fully grasp the implication behind those words in his current state, can’t puzzle out their exact perverse nature when every cell in his body is already primed to become a vehicle for lust, willing to use anything as a breathily whispered invitation for his own destruction. It makes it that much harder for him to register what’s happening when Rei’s movements come to a crashing halt and there’s a noise that Natsume has no frame of reference for, a ripping sound that drowns out everything else for a split second before vanishing completely.

Rei’s hands are like liquid metal when he grabs Natsume by the hips, inhumanly strong and molten hot, digging half-moon indentations into his skin. 

“Hey, kitten,” Rei says, voice velvet once again, making it impossible for Natsume to balk at the ridiculous nickname. “Say that again for me.”

Natsume doesn’t hesitate to repeat himself. “Onii-chan—”

Nothing can prepare him for the way Rei drives into him after that, how Wataru falls back against the cushions of the sofa and pulls Natsume down with him, his body pitching forward and almost collapsing entirely when Rei angles his hips up with his next thrust. He nuzzles Natsume’s hair insistently, breathing in deeply, words muffled by the way he licks and nips at the shell of his ear. “That’s right, Onii-chan’s gonna take care of you.”

Natsume believes him. He tries to say as much, but nothing intelligible comes out when he tries to speak, just an especially obscene moan that earns him an adoring chuckle and a drag of blunt teeth over the back of his neck.

There’s no reason for him to keep trying to think after that. It’s fine to let Rei do all the work, let him hold his body up and push into him over and over, steadily building up wave after wave of pleasure, an unrelenting pull that leaves Natsume as little more than a trembling mess. His nerves still register nothing as pain, all of his spasming muscles and blooming bruises becoming more fuel for his arousal, leaving him practically no choice but to lie there and take it. 

It feels like a good choice, a _right_ choice, like the only reason he exists in this moment is to let Rei fuck him until his knees give out. They might’ve already, actually, with how heavy they feel under him, but that’s fine too. There’s no way he could feel safer or better than where he is now, caged between Rei and Wataru’s bodies and blanketed in their scents. All that’s left is for him to wait for the conclusion that he knows is coming, can already feel the way Rei’s cock is starting to stretch him open even further, and the next time he rocks back, pulling nearly all the way out—

And staying there.

By the time Natsume even begins to realize what’s going on, there’s already a warm splatter of come leaking down his thighs. His head swims and he wants to ask what’s going, anchor himself down to that simple, instinctual logic again, but he can’t move quickly enough. Before he can so much as form the words the world is spinning around him again, pushing him up and then down onto his back, sky blue hair cascading all across his vision to frame Wataru’s serenely smiling face above him.

“ _Wataru_ ,” Rei grinds out the name like he’s just swallowed broken glass, or had his dick pulled out prematurely by a mercurial third party.

“There’s no need for such a sour expression, Rei. I’ll still play with you later,” Wataru’s cock slips inside of Natsume with no warning or preamble, filling up the uncomfortable sensation of emptiness that he hadn’t even fully registered yet. “Besides, Natsume-kun is _my_ precious student. It’s only natural for me to get possessive.”

Being brought to the edge only to be yanked back so quickly is giving Natsume whiplash, his body already pushed to the brink of overstimulation and then beyond as Wataru pushes his cock the rest of the way in, drinking every tremble and shiver that races across Natsume’s body as he lies prone underneath him. Natsume’s vision blurs from the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, streaking down his burning cheeks that are so hot he can viscerally feel the heat coming off them. He tries to cover his face with his hands, before he feels his wrists grabbed and pinned down, leaving him entirely exposed.

“Shishou,” Natsume says, barely managing to get the two syllables out without his voice cracking. Wataru hums thoughtfully in response, hooking one of his hands under Natsume’s knee and pushing it back, Rei mirroring the motion on his opposite side.

“I told you I wanted to see everything, Natsume-kun. Won’t you show me every one of your adorable expressions? They’re all so precious to me,” Wataru sighs soothingly, voice like raindrops on stone, a noise that lulls Natsume enough that it makes Wataru’s next thrust feel that much more intense. Where Rei was happy to take his time, fucking him fast and sloppily, Wataru gets right to the point, angling their hips together so the head of his cock immediately hits that single spot that makes Natsume’s toes curl and breath stop. It’s more than enough to make Natsume’s half-hard cock stir to attention, too exhausted from his first orgasm to get fully erect before, precum beginning to dribble weakly from the slit. “Right there, is it? Very well, I won’t make you wait any longer.”

Wataru’s hips rock into him maybe three more times, each one a tighter fit than the last, and despite knowing what to expect now, it doesn’t make the sensation of being stretched beyond his limits any less overwhelming. He can feel the way Wataru’s knot is expanding at the base of his cock, making it harder and harder to move until he _can’t_ , burying himself in Natsume one last time with a pleased moan before it swells and locks them in place. Natsume can’t speak, can’t think, can’t do anything but writhe helplessly, his lungs burning when he tries to do something as simple as take in air, his body feeling like it’s too full to manage even that much.

Natsume calls out for Wataru again, or tries to, no sound coming out when his lips part, mouth hanging open wordlessly when he feels Wataru’s cock pulse, his body straining desperately to accommodate his size. Rei says something underneath him that he doesn’t catch, his vision and hearing quickly slipping out of focus, the image of Wataru staring down at him with silent affection beginning to darken around the edges. If he manages to say anything else, he’s sure it’s utter nonsense, judging by the way Wataru’s smile widens with amusement. After that, there’s a hand wrapping around his dick, and it’s impossible for Natsume to hang on any longer after that. He comes with Wataru’s knot spilling over inside of him, filling him up even further, his spine arching up off of Rei’s chest before he feels himself falling, everything around him slipping away as he finally loses consciousness.

 

The pungent scent of cigarette smoke assaults Natsume’s senses, irritating enough to rouse him from his sleep, and he starts awake with an involuntary sneeze. The dim lights of the theater club room seem blinding when he tentatively tries to open his eyes, making his head throb before he immediately shuts them again, raising a hand to rub at his face— or try to. Someone’s bundled him into a tightly wrapped blanket, and it’s a struggle to pry his arm out of it. He barely frees himself in time to cover his mouth when he sneezes again, louder than the last time, expression turning markedly sour when he catches the faint laughter coming from somewhere nearby.

“Rei-niisan,” Natsume says, because who _else_ has even half as much gall as to risk being caught smoking in an official school club room? There were plenty of rumors about things that went on in the archery building, but that was a little farther away than a stone’s throw from where actual classes and unit practice sessions were held.

He’s sitting a few feet away on a large mat Wataru uses to cushion his fall from sudden on-stage trap door disappearances, wearing nothing but his wrinkled school slacks and an amused expression, a cigarette hanging loosely from his upturned lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Natsume just shoots him a petulant look in response, focusing his energy on trying to sit up rather than grouse about Rei’s flippant disregard for his health. It’s more of a struggle than he anticipates, between how securely the blanket’s been tucked and folded to encase him and the way it feels like every muscle in his body is painfully sore. The ache is harsh reminder that jolts his memory, flooding him with a flurry of obscene images, a scenario that seems closer to dream than reality (though it will take a great deal of coaxing for Natsume admit to having had similar situations appear in his unconscious mind before this). His virginity has been thoroughly nulled and voided in a series of decisions he doesn’t have an entirely firm grasp on, in a situation lurid enough to make the most jaded individual get a little hot under the collar. It was more than enough to make Natsume appropriately flustered, but of course, he couldn’t let Rei see that. He’s been exposed more than enough already today, and he doesn’t need to give Rei any more excuses to coddle him further. 

“This isn’t someplace I should be napping, in any case,” he does his best to keep voice cool and collected as he swings his legs off the sofa, shrugging the blanket looser to make it easier for him to stand up. “Falling asleep in strange places is a habit I don’t—”

He can’t finish that thought, as several things happen at once. His feet are firmly on the ground, but the moment he shifts his weight to them and tries to stand up on them, his legs turn to jelly, and Natsume’s immediately sent crashing down. The world spins around him, but his body never hits the tiled floor. Rei is up and at his side within the few milliseconds it takes for him to go careening off balance, sweeping him up into his arms with that obviously superhuman speed that Natsume would find exceedingly impressive any other time, specifically when it wasn’t being used to lift him into a princess carry.

“ _Rei-niisan_ ,” the cigarette cherry is right in Natsume’s face now, and he sneezes again immediately after managing to get a word out. Rei hums in response, striding back over to the repurposed gym mat and sitting down after kicking the rest of his clothes and a what appears to be a pair of handcuffs out of the way. 

“Take it easy for a second, will you? You’re not gonna be going anywhere soon without some help,” Rei settles Natsume firmly in his lap, keeping him in place with one arm slung casually around him when he leans over to take one last deep inhale before snuffing his cigarette out, leaving an obvious scorch mark on the floor. “I’ll drive you home after Wataru gets back. He’s getting sandwiches.”

There are a great many things Natsume should be asking right now. His eyes narrow, suspicious and catlike, ignoring the way Rei yawns so casually and runs a hand through his dark hair, wrists sporting a fresh pair of bruises that definitely weren’t there the last time Natsume had been conscious. Just what had they been doing after he had passed out, and if it was only a few feet away, how had he managed to just sleep through it?

“It would be better if you took me to the doctor,” Natsume says after another moment of deliberation, resigning himself to being held prisoner in Rei’s lap until he can will his legs to function again, taking some comfort in his incarceration by refusing to look pleased about it. “There’s something wrong with my implant.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it yet,” Rei answers, unconcerned, bringing a hand up to pinch along Natsume’s upper-arm, feeling out the tiny rod hidden there under his skin. “You don’t smell like you’re in heat anymore, and besides, I’ve got a pretty good idea about what happened.”

“You do?” Natsume’s frustration only grows when his question is met with Rei humming noncommittally and reaching up to ruffle his hair instead of answering immediately, a move that Natsume’s too exhausted to fight with his usual amount of energy. 

“It’s nothing cute kids should have to worry about. Just be careful taking candy from strangers, all right? Onii-chan can’t always be there to check it out for you.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean, Rei-niisan?” he says, putting an extra emphasis on the ‘niisan’, willing his blush not to deepen as he’s reminded of that particularly embarrassing aspect of their encounter. 

“Back to that already? Guess it’s for the best, I dunno if my heart could handle hearing you call me that all the time, kitten,” Rei swerves around Natsume’s obvious rebuke with ease, his look of total self-satisfaction remaining firmly in place as rubs his cheek against Natsume’s hair, inhaling softly.

Natsume knows when he’s lost, even if the thought of surrendering when he’s already lost so much face stings. It’s just so unbelievably unfair that this would turn out to be yet another thing to make him look like a child in need of constant fussing over, especially in Rei’s eyes. He’s already one of the worst of the Oddballs when it comes to treating him like some helpless infant, almost smothering in some of his behavior, despite how clearly it chafes at Natsume’s pride.

He seriously needs to work on improving his image as a competent adult, starting immediately. Natsume holds on to that thought for all of six seconds, the approximate time it takes him to look around for where his clothes are and try reaching for them. 

“… can you get my phone?” Natsume will have to start on it tomorrow, considering the heavy losses he’s already suffered today. His clothes (which Wataru has neatly folded for him) are just beyond where he can easily reach, and his sore muscles make it painful to overextend himself at all. Rei obliges immediately, plucking it out from under his shirt and handing it off to him without word, dropping his chin to rest on Natsume’s shoulder to watch him check his messages.

“Tha— you let me sleep for _five hours_?!” His lock screen brightly informs him that he’s been unconscious well past the afternoon and into the evening. He has two missed calls from his mama, and one from Shu, who was probably the first person she tried when he hadn’t picked up.

“We lost track of time,” Rei says helpfully, blinking at the electric glow of Natsume’s smart phone with the bemusement he always seems to have with modern technology. “It takes a lot to tire me out when I get like that. I can basically fuck nonstop for hours, you know?”

Well, he certainly did _now_. No wonder Rei was one of the few handful of students who flew in the face of the school’s code of conduct and went without some kind of hormone regulator. For anyone else who lacked Rei’s level of raw charisma, it would be a struggle to find a partner (or partners) willing to stick with them for the entire time. Considering what exactly Wataru had to do to get Rei back to this relatively normal state is something Natsume feels like he should save for contemplation later, opening LINE to send off a few quick messages to assure his worriers that he’s fine instead.

Rei reclines back as Natsume debates over which sticker will assure Shu that he isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere the most, automatically following Rei’s horizontal decline to stay resting against his chest. According to his calculations, there’s no easy way for him to escape being cuddled by the student council president at this moment, so it’s better just to bide his time. It has absolutely nothing to do with him enjoying the way Rei’s cradling him so gently, or absentmindedly nuzzling at this hair. That would ridiculous.

A nagging curiosity prompts Natsume to open his phone’s camera while he waits for Kagehira Mika to show Shu how to open the app and respond to him, as he’s witnessed first hand is the process Shu uses to begin interaction with most digital devices. He reverses the lens in use to be greeted with his own face, still slightly blotchy, but otherwise normal, save for one major difference. His eyes narrow in on the two small marks marring his neck, sitting plainly in view a few inches below the hinge of his jaw.

“How long will these last?” Natsume runs his free hand over the puncture wounds, trying to mask his interest from seeming too intense. 

“Eh? Like a week or two, I don’t usually keep track.” Rei says, his eyes closed and face peaceful when Natsume turns his head up to look at him. That plays in Natsume’s favor, giving him an extra second to compose himself after he answers.

“I want another one, when it fades.”

No, he’s still too slow, and he’s sure Rei catches his embarrassed pout as he opens one eye to grin down at him.

“Maybe if you ask your Onii-chan _real nice_ ,”

Natsume snaps a picture of the bite and pulls the blanket back up around his torso, turning his head to the side to hide from Rei’s gaze.

“I’ll consider it.”

**Author's Note:**

> did my kinks get worst, or did i just finally publish something that showed them off?
> 
> i'm @celestialdial if you enjoy chatting about boys


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